


Lay Me Bare To Your Sword (I Trust Your Aim)

by 1shinymess (magpie4shinies)



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: M/M, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-31
Updated: 2011-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:51:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpie4shinies/pseuds/1shinymess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Tron find a knot of Loyalists in the Outlands. Things get a little complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay Me Bare To Your Sword (I Trust Your Aim)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wtb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtb/gifts).



> Light power play.

Rounding up the stray Loyalists is exhausting and frustrating. They've mostly scattered to the Outlands, and Sam spares a thought to appreciate the reversal before he shelves it in favor of hitting the ground painfully. He winces as he pushes up on his arms in time to watch Tron's disc burn through the last Black Guard, scattering her into voxels.

Tron doesn't even bother watching, already moving back to where Sam is pushing himself to his feet, eyes narrow and mouth very thin in his anger. The circuits in his suit glow bright and somehow darker than they'd been, almost purple.

 _"You shouldn't have done that."_ His voice is low and controlled, but the consonants are sharp with contained anger.

Tron's aggressive stride brings him up on Sam fast, but Sam doesn't back down. He isn't going to be told off like a child, not after he'd just saved Tron's life. "You couldn't exactly deflect an energy beam while you're locked in combat with two other opponents!"

Tron stops too close, firmly in Sam's space, and glares. "While you were diverting that beam, I had to save you _twice!_ "

Sam jerks his head back, refusing to let Tron use that small extra height over him. "And it's good you were there to do it then, isn't it?!"

Tron's face twists and Sam flinches instinctively as he moves too fast to see clearly, and there's a disorienting moment when he's in the air with nothing saying why, and then he registers Tron's hands like steel bars around his shoulders and moving backward. He opens his mouth to ask what the hell he thinks he's doing, but he impacts against something unforgiving and he just chokes for air instead as the wind is knocked out of him.

 _"You have to be more careful,_ " Tron growls at him. Still dangling off of the ground because programs are freakishly strong, Sam can only gasp in response to that as his lungs reinflate. Tron leans closer, puts his face right in front of Sam's and scowls. "I can't _protect_ you if you keep flinging yourself in front of every stray program with a grudge!"

"You're one to talk!" Sam gasps out, glad to be an active participant again. "I'm a grown man, damn it! I can protect myself!"

"Not always!" Tron snarls, shaking Sam once in example. "You can be surprised, injured, _derezzed_ \--"

"There is _no way_ you acted like this with my dad," Sam shouts, and then immediately flinches at that level of cruelty pouring out of his mouth.

Tron flinches, eyes going briefly wounded with guilt before his face smooths over. "No," he says, his voice as devoid of emotion as his face. "I didn't."  
 _And look what happened_ hangs in the air between them, Tron not needing to say it and Sam feeling terrible for even thinking it.

Sam licks his lips and reaches for something, anything, he can say to take that sharp edged guilt away from Tron's face. Tron's eyes narrow and his head tilts just slightly, and then he leans forward and Sam's brain goes briefly quiet the grip on his shoulders tightens.

 _Tron is kissing him._ The idea crests in a mix of frustrated desire and anger, at himself and Tron both. It's a heady combination that only feeds the heat flooding his system and he shudders through the rush of it through his system.

It's strangely more intense than anything he's ever felt in the other world. He surges forward against Tron's grip and shows him how _Users_ kiss when they're angry. The platonic (if very firm) press of lips changes the minute Sam's mouth goes soft, but Tron doesn't react until Sam sucks his upper lip into his mouth and _bites_. It isn't hard enough to damage him, but Tron jolts against him and pulls back, eyes flaring as hot as his circuits, now definitely purple.

Sam smiles widely at him, both offer and threat together, letting his guilt go under his need.

"You're a User," Tron growls. "Not _invincible_. You don't even fully know _how_ to do things yet. I could do _anything_ to you right now, and you couldn't stop me."

Sam's smiles grows, gets filthy, and he leans his head back against the low rock wall programed into the Outlands. "You think so?" Tron's lip curls and finally, finally he starts to show something like anger, some of the frustration _Sam's_ been plagued with this whole time.

It's out of character on his face, but not unnatural. Sam's hips buck reflexively and he hooks his legs around Tron's hips and reels him in closer. "You don't like that?" he asks, smiling even though part of him is shouting _this is Tron_ and _what are you doing?_

It's like that part has completely detached from his brain-mouth filter, because he keeps going. "Then _show me._ "

That seems to be the end of Tron's patience. Sam finds himself airborne again, and this time he has the presence of mind to grip Tron's forearms and grip with his thighs to help anchor himself as he's flipped.

Tron slams him into the gritty dirt and stays on him, rolling his wrists to break Sam's grip and holding Sam down by his forearms. This may not be quite something he's ever (let himself) think of before, but it's a familiar dance.

He's never done it here, of course, and never with anyone as strong and dangerous (and _important_ ) as Tron, but he has had angry, aggressive sex before, when the frustration of dead ends and disappointment got to him, in parking lots and hallways. And he's been struggling to push down all of the want that's running rampant in him right now, and his control is just fucking shattered. He's all over the place now, it has to be _so obvious_ : Tron has his arms pinned but his legs are still free and he hasn't tried once to kick him or buck him off, since that would mean loosening the grip he's using to hold him close.

Tron's frozen like that for an endless moment, not like he's rethinking this -- not like he's thinking anything -- but like three impulses are warring for supremacy in his processor, giving Sam the chance to look his fill for once.

He's glaring down at Sam, brow furrowed, eyes narrow and fierce, even his mouth is tight with his anger. It's the most open Sam's ever seen him with his temper in the months they've been getting to know each other while they worked together to clear out the remaining Black Guard. His circuits are pulsing a bruised purple light and the strobing sky above the grid falls short of the storm brewing on his face.

Sam loves it. He wants _more,_ more honesty, more Tron, but Tron isn't moving.

So learned early if he wants something, it'll be taken from him if he doesn't take it first, so he does: he lunges up, using the extra reach he has now that Tron is holding his arms lower, and bites at his mouth.

Tron swears and rips his face back and then strikes forward like a snake, twisting his head to sink his teeth into Sam's neck. Sam bucks up with a high, surprised moan, his head slamming back in response as his focus narrows to the brighthot pain in his neck and the pressure of Tron moving over his dick.

Tron growls against his skin and Sam keeps moving in jerky waves against him, unable to stop and not wanting to. Finally, Tron widens his kneeling stance, forcing Sam's legs to spread further and slide higher around his hips, and he can sink down a little further, with a bit more pressure, and Sam realizes he doesn't even have enough space to grind unless he unhooks his legs and pushes back.

Tron's mouth moves higher up his neck and Sam's legs tighten reflexively. "You'll _listen_ ," Tron gasps between bites, the rough growl hitching. "For once, _you have to listen_ \--"

Sam's tugs at Tron's hold in jerks, distracted in turns by the bites and that voice right next to his ear, but he wants to grab Tron so badly, wants to pull him down, shred his gridsuit and feel him without anything in the way.

" _Sam_ ," Tron groans, mouthing one of the sore patches on Sam's neck and sounding pretty desperate himself.

Sam doesn't know when the anger burned away but all that's left is the need he's been trying to ignore for months. He wants Tron so much: like this, in the real world, in real dirt under a sky he won't be able to see because Tron takes all of his attention; he wants Tron back in his apartment in Tron City, wants him on his knees and fisting Sam's hair with his voice growling at him to lick his circuits. Sam just _wants_ : Tron, all around him, blotting out everything else; wants him _here_ , always, _never ever leave--_

" _Stop,_ Sam, stop--" Tron says, inexplicably, voice wrecked and shaking, and he pulls away from his neck to press his mouth to Sam's once, twice, three times, too quick for Sam to kiss back. "Shh," Tron whispers, pressing another kiss to Sam's mouth and resting his forehead against Sam's. "Shh, I've got you."

Sam shakes his head automatically, not intentionally denying him but denying the idea all the same. Tron nearly _died_ , that beam would've cut right through him, shattered him into a million pieces like a puzzle Sam would never be able to reassemble.

"We're fine," Tron says. " _We're fine._ Look at me, Sam."

Sam opens them because he can't ignore that pleading tone, even though he's terrified of sending Tron away with all of the pathetic need that must be clear on his face, but Tron doesn't pull back, doesn't move away.

He's so close Sam can see the individual spikes of blue and gray in his eyes. " _Tron._ "

Tron looks winded, like he landed hard or took a punch he hadn't expected, and his eyes close briefly before his expression firms and looks back down at Sam. "Come on," he murmurs, shifting so he can slide one of his hands down Sam's arm to his hand and grip it, tangling their fingers.

Sam blinks, not wanting to break this new atmosphere and too caught up in looking at him and never wanting to stop.

Tron's eyes shimmer faintly blue and he rocks his hips. "Come on, Sam. It's fine, I promise. With me." The pressure breaks the spell and Sam automatically responds, hips rocking up into newly-created space, and pleasure distracts Sam from that overwhelming desperate tenderness.

"Yeah," Tron murmurs, "that's good, come on..."

Sam tugs at the hand not tangled in Tron's and Tron finally lets it up and Sam slides his hand into Tron's hair and tugs him back down, kissing him. He feels the imprint of his teeth from earlier and sucks gently on Tron's tongue in apology as he firmly keeps the pace slow and gentle with a firm hand on Sam's hips, pressing him down.

It's so different from how it started: the anger and the fear it had masked have both fallen away, leaving Sam feeling strangely scalded and open. The only thing that makes it OK is how much of Tron is pressing into him, how focused Tron is on him.

"Yes," Tron says again, voice hoarse and soft with his own upheaved emotions, and Sam stops fighting him, stops trying to speed the pace and slides his hand down Tron's neck to his back and pulls him down. Tron follows his lead on that, lets Sam reel him in tight so they're pressed together from head to hip as they grind, slow and steady.

The pressure builds again but it's almost an afterthought. Tron's circuits slide hot against Sam's and his flush builds: the slow rolling pace takes Sam up, but doesn't pull him away from Tron's face. Sam doesn't turn his head or close his eyes and neither does Tron.

Sam's hand flexes around Tron's. What pain had briefly throbbed in his shoulders and arms is gone. He strokes over Tron's back to the same slow rhythm, and wants, once more, to feel Tron's bare skin and circuits under his fingers more fully.

Tron either reads the question on his face or serendipity has him decide to derezz his suit just then, and Sam feels the pixels fade away like sand under his fingers and palm. Tron's eyes glow impossibly brighter as Sam begins following the large circuits under his disc holder.

After a minute, he sighs, breath drifting over Sam's damp lips and his eyes close as he tightens his grip on Sam's arm and hand respectively. Something breaks in Sam, then, and it feels almost as good as the orgasm that starts as a tingle and crests incandescent against the back of his eyelids. He rides it, back arching with the strength, not wanting to let the moment go but unable to keep his head from tipping back as his mind goes white. He must be saying something -- or nothing, but he must be moaning because his voice is raw enough by now that he feels it catch.

Tron echoes him just a moment later, circuits humming fiercely against Sam's chest and beneath his palm. His forehead falls against Sam's cheek and then Sam feels his mouth drag wet over his jaw as he buries his face into Sam's neck.

Sam strokes him through the tremors, a little shaky at first but better once his own aftershocks fade. His hand continues moving even after Tron grows still against him, fascinated by the change in texture from skin to circuit.

After a few minutes of that, Tron twitches and Sam stops and reluctantly lets him pull back far enough that they can look each other in the eye again. The virtual world has a moderated temperature that never runs really hot or cold, but Sam shivers as his damp skin is exposed to it anyway, still overheated from their exchange.

"...I apologize," Tron says after a few minutes of silent staring.

Sam blinks. "For what?"

Tron's eyes flick up and Sam cranes his head back to look. There's a low shelf that starts abruptly and rises into a steep hill, and he feels the phantom ache of slamming against it in his shoulders. "...oh."

He looks back at Tron and thinks about that. _It's OK?_ he wonders. _I didn't mind? Yeah, no. Then he might think it's cool to do that whenever._ And he _had_ minded, at the time at least. "You know that's not...the best way to settle arguments, right?"

Tron nods immediately, looking down. Sam strokes up over his back to cup his shoulder and squeeze. When Tron looks back up, he smiles. "Don't worry about it then. We both went pretty far off the book on effective conflict management, there."

Tron smiles faintly, but his eyes flick back down, and Sam realizes he's looking at the places on his neck that are starting to throb.

Tron starts to push up off of him, circuits blue and flushing faintly white, as Sam realizes what those throbbing spots mean. _His bite marks._

Now that he isn't flamingly pissed off himself, thinking back over the whole scene, Sam realizes how awkward this could get. Tron pretty much man-handled him to the ground, told him to like it, and that's exactly what Sam had done. He hadn't even considered, at any point, flexing his User muscles and using a shockwave to knock him back or break his hold.

Sam considers his potential responses, then pats Tron's shoulder. "Hey, look at it this way: we still have to get back home and you've got to be completely wiped. You know what that means, right?"

Tron blinks and Sam grins at him, pulling out his baton from its thigh holster and waving it at him. "You're riding bitch, man. Can't have you falling off before we get some energy in you."

Tron winces and Sam laughs openly at his pain as he pushes himself to his feet. They haven't resolved any of the issues which had bubbled over into this HBO-special, but they've broken the barrier on admitting the issues are there, at least. Hell, they fucking _shattered_ it.

... _and_ wiped out a Loyalist cell. _Shit, I kicked ass_ and _got laid. Today was a good day._ Sam lets himself admire Tron's form outright for the brief moment before Tron rezzes his gridsuit and covers it all up again, trying to ignore the cooling, sticky feeling in his pants. "Hey, if you really feel bad for mauling me, you can come over to my place when we get back. I've got energy. Maybe we can hang out a while?"

Tron stares down at him and Sam smiles, slow and filthy and, even as depleted as he must be, Tron's circuits flare, faint but perfectly noticeable.

 _Oh, yeah._ Sam thinks, sprinting a few steps to jump and twisting his baton apart. His light cycle rezzes between his legs and he looks over his shoulder at Tron. "Coming?"

Tron rolls his eyes, which he _probably_ learned from Sam, but his mouth is twitching up into a smile despite his attempts to keep it off of his face.

Sam grins. "Hey, you want to take the main road? We can say hi to everyone, and Central is on the way--"

" _No,_ " Tron says firmly, sliding onto Sam's lightcycle behind him with a distinctly unhappy air. "We'll ping them. Side roads only."

Sam laughs and guns it.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Winzler](http://archiveofourown.org/users/whatistigerbalm/pseuds/winzler) because you are amazing and [drew me pretty things](http://307020.com/post/12016662638/dah-di-da-di-dah-the-grid-has-no-colour-the-grid). Also, [Brightdreamer](http://archiveofourown.org/users/brightdreamer/pseuds/brightdreamer) was wonderful and helped me work out a few logistic issues that were bothering me. Thanks for helping make this fic better!


End file.
